


Mass Effect: Phoenix Protocol

by Paellas



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8883520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paellas/pseuds/Paellas
Summary: Three years has passed since the end of the Reaper war. The mass relays are gone. Worlds are shattered. The Galaxy begins to rebuild itself
Saved from the destruction of the Citadel, Vanessa Shepard is brought back to a fractured galaxy. Working to help rebuild the Alliance, dangers from the war persists that threatens to destabilize the already fragile Galactic state.
Now, faced with a new danger shrouded in ambiguity, Shepard plunges yet again into the unknown. This time to finish the war that should've ended three years ago.





	1. The Legend Lives

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: 
> 
> Hello all. 
> 
> Here I am continuing a story I started a long time ago on a different account. I’ve tried to keep canon personalities, but I have taken liberties with character personalities. I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t do it justice. 
> 
> Without further ado, onto the story. I hope you enjoy your stay, and thank you once again for joining me on this journey!
> 
> Disclaimer:
> 
> The overall plot is original. Bioware and EA own all rights to the characters, setting, and everything canon. I have no claim over the Mass Effect franchise. All rights belong to Bioware and EA (I hope that’s the right way to do a disclaimer.).

A beep punctuated the darkness. It was familiar yet foreign. Pain. It was jarring and dull, a growing ache before equilibrating. The beep came again, a steady rhythm.

She didn’t know where she was, nor did she really care to know. Vanessa Rosabeth Shepard felt light. Weightless and a warm softness encasing her. It was all so perfect if only the pain would go away. It swelled then dissipated quickly. Voices echoed from afar; she couldn’t be sure how close they were. About to ask whatever being, spirit, or God that may be listening where she was, memories, from what felt like a lifetime ago, trickled back. 

A trickle turned into a flood. She remembered.

She was dead.

Three choices. That’s all the Catalyst gave her. Destruction, control, and synthesis. Lives were lost every second Vanessa took to think. The insurmountable weight of her decision shattered mind’s repression. There was no one to consult. No superior to order her. Whispers surrounded her as the beeping intensified. She had killed them. She had killed them all. The Geth. EDI. The Reapers. Anything remotely synthetic. Who was the greater monster now? 

But what other choice did she have? It was an impossible decision. A decision she had to make alone.

Writhing in turmoil, Vanessa screamed. In her head or aloud. Who cared? How foolish to think she could finally rest. With all the lives that she took, all the decisions that she made, and all the mistakes befallen due to her, she was the wicked. The wicked had no right to rest. There was too much to atone for.

The jury casted their verdict, and its punishment wasn’t execution nor hell. It was to bear the torment from invisible phantoms, even in her frozen sleep. Where was the fire? Vanessa craved the eternal immolation instead of the voices. She heard EDI somewhere among the madness. Did she hate her? She finally understood what it meant to be human. She’d said so. Vanessa took that all away.

_EDI…_

“She’s coding!” The voices hushed as Vanessa searched for the speaker. She couldn’t see them. “Doctor! Her vitals are in the red. We’re going to lose her!”

Somewhere in the darkness, Vanessa felt a sensation graze against her body.

“Another dose of pain killers! We need to move her to the OR right now!” Seconds later, Vanessa felt a cooling chill flood her body. The voices were getting softer by the second. Tension ebbing away. “Lets move people. We need to operate now!”

As the chilling coldness continued, Vanessa felt herself fade back into calm. Though she saw nothing, her body grew tired. Embracing sleep readily, she sought refuge in tranquility.

 

* * *

 

Again she awoke to the beeping.

It was clearer this time. Vanessa forced her eyes open. She growled as they rapidly shut. The light was blinding, almost burning. Coughing, she opened her eyes gradually this time.

A room. A hospital room. That’s where she was. The walls were a neutral blue while the windows polarized to block out the Sun’s potency. Several small plants stood guard in the corners. Tubes were inserted in her arm from life support machines. Amethyst eyes followed the rise and fall of the green line that represented her heartbeat. The brunette tried to move, but a hand pressed gently against her shoulder. She hissed in pain.

“You’re awake...”

Vanessa knew that voice. She knew it as well as her own body and thoughts. Searching for the person, Vanessa’s chest tightened. Miranda.

It was either the cruelest of illusions or the best of dreams. Her tongue betrayed her as Vanessa looked away. 

“…Not … real.”

“Like hell I’m not!” It was rare to hear Miranda’s voice quiver. “I’m real, you’re real. Come back to me, Nessa…!”

 “Died … Citadel … remember,” Vanessa said. Swallowing in hopes of holding back the tears forming at the corner of her eyes, she wanted the illusion to vanish. “Destruction … Fire … explosions … dead …”

 The life support machines went berserk. Medical personnel burst through her doors. Vanessa looked down at her body. Her eyes widened. Her body was mummified in medical bandages. Did the afterlife care for such details? She looked back at Miranda. Her brightest star in the universe ordered the doctor’s about. Vanessa couldn’t hear anymore. The pain was far too much. The darkness pulled her back like an unfilled lover.

 

* * *

 

Vanessa blinked the sleep away. The pain from before had subsided tremendously.

Trying to sit up, her body fought her every inch of the way, but she managed it. Looking about, her eye’s fell on a sleeping figure by her bedside. The beautiful locks of dark brown hair. The beautifully shaped body. Vanessa moved her hand and gently stroked Miranda’s soft, brown locks. It was softer than those silly plush dolls she cherished back on Earth when she was a kid. She never owned one. They were stolen. She loved it nevertheless.

 Retracting her hand too slow, Shepard hissed in pain as Miranda sat straighter than a Marine under internal affairs scrutiny. Seeing what she’d done, Miranda took Vanessa’s hand and gently caressed it in her own. “Nessa…”

 Vanessa chuckled as she looked at her body. “They’re gone. The bandages.”

 "You sound better already. Do you still think—”

 “That you’re not real? I say a lot of stupid things, Miri,” Vanessa said. She pointed at the window. “Can we get some sunlight in here?”

 “It’s evening actually.”

 “Oh,” Vanessa said. She looked around the room. “Feeling a bit deja vu here.”

 Miranda’s lips tugged up. “Lazarus. Frankly, I’m surprised you were able to walk. Let alone hold your own against those security mechs. Not in your state. The amount of work that went into you this time outdoes Lazarus. It was touch and go.” The smile fading away, Miranda stared at Vanessa. She knew that look. “You promised you’d find me.”

 Vanessa remembered their last communication before Operation Hammer. So many had died. She nearly did too. While they were banking on heavy resistance, Harbinger coming down sent the whole plan full FUBAR. As far as Vanessa was concerned, Hammer was wiped out. The bulk of it anyway. The order for a full retreat was inevitable, she knew that. There was no one to blame either. The resistance faced impossible odds of success. The Reapers … the Reapers!

 “Miri.” Vanessa clenched Miranda’s hand. “Are they gone? What happened? Did we survive?”

 Miranda shushed Vanessa as she patted her hand. “They’re gone. You’ve been asleep for three years.”

 Vanessa blinked. “Three years?”

 “You woke up a year ago. That’s when you … had your little malfunction. The doctors said something about psychological trauma. I told them to piss off,” Miranda said. “It’s taken up to now to have you eighty percent recovered. Give or take. You’ve been spoiled while you were asleep. The nurses gave you full body massages to prevent muscle degradation. I’ve since taken over. I’m a fast learner. The doctors have been doing a decent enough job. I’ve had to intervene here and there. Between you and I, there are some that should be sacked. Qualified doctors?” Miranda snorted. “I shudder to think what medical school they popped out from. I might be a touch too hard on them. Many of the _qualified_ doctors died during the war. If that isn’t a good enough reason, then I don’t know what is.

 “I expect you’ll want to know the current state of the galaxy. Plainly put, everyone’s rebuilding. Pockets of survivors have been found on other planets. Intergalactic travel has slowed considerably. The quarians and salarians are leading the mass relay repairs. Good progress but slow. If the Geth were here.” Realizing who she was talking to, Miranda lowered her head slightly. “They disappeared when you did your thing. There are certainly rumors, but you don’t need to say a word till you’re good and ready. You hear me? You saved us.”

 Vanessa didn’t want to talk about it. Her actions enacted genocide to prevent a genocide. She laughed at the dark humor. “So every thing’s okay?”

 Miranda shrugged. “Relatively speaking. I’ll spare you the less … cultured details.”

 “I need to hear it all.”

 “You will. Just not now,” Miranda said as she leaned in and kissed Vanessa’s forehead. “You rest. I’ll keep all the bad guys away while you get well.”

 Feeling a warm blush fill her slightly sun kissed skin, Vanessa smiled. “Whatever happened to the ice queen thing you perfected?”

 Raising an eyebrow, the woman feigned anger and frowned. “I’m hurt,” she said. “I thought you liked the bossy, sassy woman.”

 Vanessa winked even though it hurt to. “Icy exterior, soft gooey interior.”

 Miranda smiled and gave Vanessa’s hand yet another squeeze. “Our little secret,” she said. “Don’t go spreading it around. I’d lose face with my colleagues. And the rest of the populace.”

 “So you’ve stopped running.”

 Pursing her lips, a brief silence lingered before Miranda spoke again, “You said we didn’t have to run anymore. I’m tired of hiding. Life on the run isn’t as glamorous as the novels make it out to be. Missing showers, making phony accounts? Just a whole lot of busy work,” Miranda said gesturing with her hands for emphasis. “Believe it or not, I accepted a position within the Alliance. Civilian job. Research and development mostly. Human augmentation and genetics specifically. My typical comfort topics. From Cerberus to Alliance. I still get dirty looks here and there. Still getting used to military regulation. My god. So much fuss.”

 Looking pointedly at her, Vanessa rose her hand and wagged a finger. She cursed the pain away. “Ex-Cerberus,” she said. “I can live with that though. Am I saluting you or …?”

The woman laughed as she shook her head. “Commander, though my case is a bit … unique,” she said. “Same rank so no formalities. From hero to legend. That’s what you are now. A legend not only to humanity but to the whole damn galaxy. You’ll probably be promoted.”

 The soldier shrugged off the comment. The last thing Vanessa wanted was to be a legend. In her eyes, she was a soldier. Just plain old Commander Shepard. As with all Alliance personnel, she performed her duty. Nothing more. While her situation and feats could’ve been misconstrued into miracles, it was sheer determination — and luck — that got her through. There were so many times when she wanted to drop her rifle and quit. The Council’s repeated hindrance. Cerberus’s atrocities revving the gag reflex. The Reapers destroying hundreds with a single attack. There were so many reasons to quit. But she didn’t. She didn’t deserve to be a legend. She was just a soldier with an attitude problem. With some stubbornness sprinkled in.

_Nuts. Plain simple nuts._ Vanessa laughed. She knew Miranda was looking at her oddly, but she didn’t care. “Nuts.”

Miranda arched an eyebrow. “Nuts? Context, if you’d please.”

 “Something a ghost from the past used to say to me. We didn’t get along, but that’s something I stole from the old bastard.” A thought came to mind as she turned to Miranda. “What happened to the others? Did they survive?”

 Dark brown eyebrows arched up. “Garrus is living the high life on Palaven. Joker’s still hounding about the Normandy. He … hasn’t been the same after EDI’s death. Lets not get into that,” Miranda quickly said when she saw Vanessa’s expression, “Tali’s back on the Flotilla. Javik is here actually. Said something about congratulating the Reaper slayer. He should be visiting. My exposition may’ve been added in. Just a little. The others are fine. Lots didn’t make it though. Lots.”

 Sighing, Vanessa was saved from the solemn silence when the door opened. Two doctors entered as they nodded to the room’s occupants. “Commander Shepard. Commander Lawson. I’m Dr. Andrews. Just doing my routine check-in. Might I say, you’ve got a loyal friend. The commander’s been here almost every single day. Evening specifically.”

 Vanessa stared at the doctor. “She’s my partner.”

 Dr. Abrams blinked then nodded. “The commander may have already told you, but you’ve been out for three years, two months, fourteen days. We’ve managed to keep muscle degradation down considerably due to massaging and other experimental treatments,” he said. “Believe it or not, you didn’t look like this when we found you. If I had to make a comparison, think a overcooked, charred steak. Chances of resurrection were slim. Luckily, you had cybernetics, and for whatever reason, you weren’t affected like the other synthetics. We simply added onto that and used the commander’s Lazarus process and went to town. Obviously, this is all classified. Only a handful know about it. Level Black clearance. Doesn’t get any higher than that.

 “There’s a whole host of biological, cognitive, and neural tests we have to do. That can be spread out. Don’t want to overwhelm you on your _first_ official cognitive day,” he said. He gestured to the female doctor. “Dr. Samuels?”

 “First off, it’s an honor, Commander,” said the blonde doctor. She looked a few years too young to be a practiced physician. Her dimples added to the youth look. “Dr. Andrews oversaw your general recovery. Physical therapy - PT - is all me. Three years of inactivity does a lot to the body, so we’re going to be taking things nice and slow. This’ll probably be a six month to a year process. Depends on how quickly you get back into the groove. Once you’re able to walk and do all the basics, it’ll be your show. Commander Lawson’s as well I’d imagine,” Dr. Samuels said. “No rush though. You just woke up. Nice and steady wins the race.”

Vanessa rose a eyebrow. She forced her body up. Slowly she moved her feet off the bed until she was sitting on the edge. “Six months to a year’s too long,” she said. Fighting the nausea, Shepard got to her feet though she leaned against the bed for support. Miranda was already by her side supporting her. Vanessa grimaced. “Small steps though.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”

Dr. Andrews excused himself while Dr. Samuels stayed behind. She nodded. “Well, you’re already doing better than I thought.”

“Glad to exceed your expectations,” Vanessa said.

Dr. Samuels laughed. “Commander? I’m pretty sure you exceeded the galaxy’s expectations three years ago. You find someone who can exceed yours, you let me know,” the doctor said. “I’d love to meet that unlucky soul.”


	2. What Comes After

Vanessa was hopeful.

Three months into physical therapy, and she was going stir crazy. The routine was the same: get up, walk around, light weights, walk around some more, then back to bed. In the beginning, making it out of her room was a feat in of itself. Now things were getting easier. She tried to convince Dr. Samuels that she was ready to be discharged, but the doctor countered her every argument. Discourse between the two were aplenty, but Vanessa eventually yielded. She was still tired from the recovery. At least she could eat real food now.

Sitting in the main atrium, Vanessa enjoyed the warmth of the sun. Supposedly, Helping Pawls was coming in sometime today. She had to admit, some of the therapy dogs were cute. That was one thing Vanessa wanted to add to her to-do list. Get a puppy, maybe a husky. Perhaps she’d be able to find the time given all that happened.

“Commander?” Rebecca, her attending nurse, cleared her throat. “You have a visitor.”

Vanessa buttoned down her musings. “Who?”

The nurse cleared her throat as she pointed behind Vanessa. Following the nurse’s gesture, Vanessa’s eyes widened. 

“Fleet Admiral Hackett,” Rebecca said. “I—” 

Already on her feet, Shepard limp walked her way to greet him. With Anderson gone, Hackett was one of the few connections she had to the past. There were so many questions to be answered, but even in her humbled condition, military doctrine drilled into her took over.

 Unsure whether it was to her benefit or impatience, Hackett closed the remaining distance between them. “When the salvage teams found you, I couldn’t believe it. Got to hand it to the science folks. They pulled a miracle.”

Trying to snap off a salute, Vanessa grunted as she was forced to settle on half salute. “So we won, sir?”

Returning her salute, the admiral motioned to a nearby bench. He waited for Shepard to sit before himself. “No one told you?”

Vanessa shrugged. “I wanted to hear your take, sir.”

“We won. At great cost. We’re still trying to get an accurate casualty count. I’m not going to lie, it’s a shit show. Propaganda says otherwise. Arcturus station is being rebuilt. A new defense committee and Parliament is being formed. We’ve been under martial law since the end of the war. Still are.” The admiral scratched his scruffy beard and sighed. “Contrary to what the population thinks, I’m not in favor of martial law. It’s a last resort, but that’s what we had to work with at the time. Soldiers are meant to fight, not to protect. Bad things happen because of that.

“Galaxy’s at peace for the most part. We’ve had some run-in with raiders. Keeping the colonies safe has left no personnel unaccounted for. Reserves have integrated into Active Duty, and with the mass relays down, getting to the fringe colonies has been a challenge. I’ve heard good progress from the Quarian-Salarian teams working to rebuild them. In the mean time, we’ve settled for FTL research in the interim.”

“The salarians are helping? They were plenty pissed about the genophage. I half expected them to turn their backs on us.”

“Make no mistake. The dalatrass has asked for you to appear before a salarian tribunal. Don’t think that’s gone away,” Hackett said. “All species use the relays though. It only benefits them to have those back online. Krogan and Salarian relations are where you expect it to be. Abysmal.”

“Is Wrex still in charge?”

The admiral scoffed. “Last I heard, he’s accumulated quite the offspring count.”

Vanessa half smiled. “Not surprised,” she said. “Turians?”

At this, a tiny glimmer of amusement entered his eyes. “Your friend Garrus holds a very high position on the new hierarchy. Named you an honorary turian. Not really sure what that means. The sentiments are echoed among their noncombatants. You’ve quite the reputation.”

The woman frowned. “So I hear.”

“Not taken with the status?”

“No. Not really,” Vanessa said. “I’m just a soldier. I did my duty like any other Marine.”

“You’re not just a soldier, Shepard. You’re a symbol. A very important symbol that keeps the races unified.”

Vanessa scoffed. She cut it short when the admiral gave her a look. “Sorry, sir. Someone said something similar to me once. Not someone I miss.”

Not pursuing the topic, Hackett got to his feet. He held up his hand when Vanessa made to rise. “Sit. You earned a damned vacation. I’ll stop by again soon, Commander. Rest up. I trust you’re still with me?”

Vanessa nodded sharply. “Once Alliance, always Alliance.”

“Good answer,” Hackett resettled his military cap. “We need you more than ever, Shepard.”

She nodded. The rush of duty gave her strength. “Tell me where, and I’m there.”

 

* * *

 

“Don’t ask me who I had to pay to smuggle this in. I remembered you stuffing your face on the Citadel with this … stuff. I expect a future favor.”

It was like Christmas. In the Summer. Tearing into the cheeseburger, Vanessa moaned as the fatty, greasy, comfort food overwhelmed her taste buds. It was a historical cuisine dating back to the twenty-first century give or take. History was never her strong hand. Taking another bite, she closed her eyes and chewed in undisturbed silence.

When she swallowed, she looked over at Miranda noting her bemused expression. “From the taste and fine texture, did you go to Zitto’s Burger Shack? I can’t believe it’s around.”

“Wow,” Miranda said as she rested her arms against her thighs. “Just from two bites?”

Vanessa smiled. “I’m a burger connoisseur. Among other things,” she said. “This trumps hospital food. It’s crap.”

Miranda looked around. “Don’t let the chef catch wind of that. Kitchen staff get creative when they’re insulted,” she said. “It can’t be that bad though. I read reviews. This is probably the best hospital in the area.”

“But did the reviews say anything about the food?”

“…No.”

“Have you ever tasted the food, Miri?”

Miranda pursed her lips. “I had the option of that or sirloin,” she said. “I chose the latter.”

Sighing, Vanessa took another bite into the burger. It was a pity the five-star fast food beauty was almost gone. She had a supplier though. Vanessa chuckled as she thought about her next burger shipment. It was perfect. Comfort food was part of the recovery she rationalized to herself. Psychologically speaking of course.

“So you’re assuming. You know the saying about assuming, miss Lawson?”

Rolling her eyes, Miranda crossed her legs. God she looked good in an Alliance uniform Shepard thought to herself.

“So how’s the PT going? I talked to the doctor. She says you’re doing well?”

Vanessa humphed. “I think the good doctor has it out for me.”

“Causing trouble?”

Finishing her burger, Vanessa balled the wrapper and tossed it into the Zitto’s bag. “You always assume the worst in me. I’ve been hinting to the good doctor that I’m fine,” Vanessa said. “I can do the PT stuff. All of them. The only reason why Samuels—”

“Dr. Samuels,” Miranda corrected her.

“ _Dr. Samuels._ The only reason why she’s keeping me here is because I walk slow. I’m ready to get out of here, Miri. This place has become a five-star prison.”

And she meant every word. Vanessa felt like she’d outstayed her welcome. Not due to imposing on others, but the hospital imposing on her own sanity. London was right outside those large bulkhead doors and past the military checkpoint. It wasn’t all doom and gloom. She had plenty of good conversations with fellow veterans, and each interaction further showed her how lucky she was. Some wouldn’t walk again. Some were afflicted with an enormous amount of PTSD, which rendered them unfit for the public. There were rumors of indoctrinated receiving mental reconditioning, but she never validated that rumor herself.

Miranda reached over and placed her hand over hers. “A rather luxurious prison. Just deal with it a bit longer,” she said. “Are you a physical therapy specialist?”

“No.”

“Have you been to medical school? Dealt with patients in said capacity?”

“No.”

“Then you just follow the good doctor’s orders. You’re recovering remarkably from an improbable situation. By all rights, you should be dead. Dead, Nessa.” Miranda casted her gaze to the ground. “I was a mess when we couldn’t find you. A mess when they were putting you back together. When I was putting you back together. You put me through hell; I— Stop complaining and finish your recovery. You try to leave early, I’ll track you down and drag you straight back here. Am I clear, Commander?”

Miranda probably meant every word she said. Vanessa nodded as she sat back against the bench. Her eyes playfully roamed over Miranda’s body. “Liked your previous style better. More revealing.”

“Excuse me?”

Laughing, Vanessa held up a hand. “R&D, right?”

Still flustered, Miranda cleared her throat. “Well, I progress I suppose. I’m not sure how to explain it without relying on science jargon.” Vanessa urged her to continue. “Fine. So recall that I’m in the augmentation and genetics business. Now, I’ve quite the silver tongue—”

“I’m _well_ aware.”

“—And I can be quite persuasive. Alliance chain of command asked me to look into genetic modification to enhance the soldiers. Nothing like the Illusive Man. I argued for genetic and cybernetic compatibility. Initial blowback eventually gave way to reason. Reminds me why I didn’t join the Alliance in the first place. Bureaucratic, roundabout chain of command.” Miranda sighed. “So compatibility. Right now there’s a severely low chance of perfect integration between the augmentations and the body. Sometimes the body rejects them. Namely, the cells simply refuse to cooperate. Either necrosis around the cybernetics occur or nerve connections are faulty. Painful really.

“There’s a certain chemical substance in development. What it does is mark the cells within the cybernetic region. It signals for them to see the nerve connections on the cybernetics as part of the body. Tricks cell replication to see the artificial implants as organic. Since I started last year, there has been some promise, but the results aren’t statistically significant. Yet. I’m trying to get into phase II. Are you still following?”

Vanessa nodded. “I get the idea. What’s Phase II?”

“Completely different from old world thinking. Phase II is human experimentation.”

“That’s—”

Miranda held up a hand. “Don’t interrupt,” she said. “Unlike Cerberus, the go ahead for Phase II comes from both an academic and civilian board. That’s partially why I haven’t received approval yet. The new Parliament is still in its infancy; ergo, no official oversight board. I’m not naïve enough to believe the military is completely transparent on what it does, but for things like this? I insisted on civilian involvement.”

Feeling her rigid shoulders grow laxed, Vanessa was about to inquire how she fell on the compatibility spectrum until she caught sight of Admiral Hackett. Miranda followed her gaze.

Getting up, Miranda helped Vanessa to her feet - much to her dismay - as her superior and several Marines stopped a respectable distance away. Vanessa and her partner saluted their superior. “You look better, Shepard.” He nodded to Miranda. “Visiting commander?”

Miranda nodded. “Had a few minutes to spare, sir.”

Vanessa inwardly chuckled at Miranda’s formality. It was a different change for the woman for sure. If only the admiral knew Miranda like Vanessa did. Well, not entirely like she knew her. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Reaching into his pocket, Admiral Hackett pulled out a small box. He opened it revealing three golden bars. “This is long overdo. Congratulations, captain. When you’re discharged, it’ll be marked on your uniform. In the meantime, make do with these.” Handing it over to Vanessa, they shook hands before continuing on, “The new defense committee has also seen fit for you to oversee the N-Series program. I recommended you. For humanity to persist, we need strong soldiers, Shepard. We need the N-series. Especially N7s as close to your caliber, if possible. Don’t let peace time full you. Enemies grow in peace.”

She should’ve been ecstatic, but Vanessa kept her calm. Leaving the Alliance never came to mind for a second. Overseeing the N-series program wasn’t some glorified office the defense committee or Parliament haphazardly awarded to someone. There were expectations of continuing the sadistic legacy that created modern day spartan-like warriors. Every N-Series operative that went through the program regardless of pass or fail had something that the common soldier didn’t. In their own way, each had lost something. Physical or mental.

Those who passed through the rigorous training, however, were able to use that loss to propel them forward to achieve what the normal soldier couldn’t. It was humanity’s trump card, these individuals. The admiral was right. Humanity needed this program to continue. The standards would be elevated. The times demanded it. Vanessa demanded it. If it was too much, she’d be replaced. Until then, it was her show.

“We’ll be ready, admiral,” Vanessa said. “It’ll be my priority once I’m discharged.”

Admiral Hackett nodded. He motioned to the soldier on his left. “Lieutenant Dawson is assigned to bring you up to speed. A fellow N7 who lived through the war.”

Dawson saluted Vanessa as she returned it. “It’s an honor, ma’am.”

“While you finish your recovery, I trust you’ll be up for some light reading,” the admiral continued, “Unfortunately, your leave has been delayed.”

Vanessa’s lips tugged up. “Got tired of sitting around anyways.”

Admiral Hackett nodded. “Given your history, I’m sure Commander Lawson will keep you accountable if Dawson can’t.”

Miranda matched the admiral’s gaze. Vanessa looked over to see a hint of an eye twitch.

“You’ll be given an escort. We’ve had some recent safety concerns for officers. Particularly you.”

“Sir?”

“The attacks have been random. Intelligence couldn’t find a pattern, but we’re not taking any chances,” he said. The admiral motioned to two Marines standing behind him. “Mandatory for all senior officers. You’ll get used to it. Dawson’s one of them.”

“I’d like to volunteer as one of the escorts,” Miranda said. “I’ve fought with the commander— captain for while now. It’ll be best if she has someone familiar. Sir.”

“You’re in the science branch. I don’t see how you’ll be able to joggle between protection and your work.”

“I’ll make it work.”

“Commander,” Vanessa said as she felt herself tense ever so slightly. “You’re out of line.”

Giving her _the look,_ Miranda inhaled then exhaled. “Apologies, ma’am.”

Even though fraternization was most stringent between officer and enlisted personnel, officers in relationships still had to walk a line between professionalism and personal life. Favoritism found no home in the military.

“In any case, you’ll have an escort. No debates,” Hackett said. “There’s more to be done on my end. Dawson, bring the captain up to speed.” Admiral Hackett motioned towards two privates standing at attention. “Private Stinger and private LaStrange. They’ll make sure a civvie doesn’t scoff your cuffs. In a manner of speaking.”

Vanessa nodded to the two. “Anything else sir?”

Admiral Hackett shook his head. “Keep vigilant, Shepard. Even when we’re not at war, the dangers change from foreign to familiar,” the admiral said. He chuckled. “It’s funny that. War, we fight obvious enemies. Peace? We fight two faced ideologists. One uses force while the other cloak and dagger. How grim. One day humanity loves us, the other they hate us.” Tearing his gaze away from the window of the atrium, Hackett cleared his throat. “I’ll leave it at that.”

Saluting the admiral, Vanessa looked at Miranda. She offered her an apologetic look before turning her attention to the Dawson. “Let’s get to work.” She eyed the Marines standing about. She pitied them. Guard detail was a drag regardless the post. “Stinger and LaStrange, right?”

The two privates stood at attention. “Yes, ma’am,” said a tall Asian male. Vanessa noted the scar across his face. “LaStrange and I were part of the war. That’s where this beauty mark’s from.”

LaStrange nodded sharply. Her face had burn mark though it didn’t detract from the rugged beauty she was. If Vanessa had to guess, the woman was a mix of some sort. European, but the specifics was anyone’s guess. “We were both in London,” she said in a thick Eastern European accent. “Fought with Admiral Anderson from the very beginning. Hell didn’t want me.”

“Scared the devil himself,” Stinger said.

“Piss off,” LaStranger snapped back.

The looks from the two Marines was all Vanessa needed to tell they weren’t lying. Anyone who fought back then — anyone who fought at all — possessed something different than those who hadn’t taken a life before. It wasn’t so much what they showed, but what they didn’t. With every smile, the little twinkle in the eyes was missing. When sitting among others, the guarded look was always present. In public, vigilance was as apparent as breathing to live. Vanessa needn’t press them any further.

“Glad you both made it. We’ll need soldiers battle hardened for the reconstruction,” Vanessa said. She turned her attention back to Dawson. “Lieutenant, there should be conference rooms we can use. We’ll need to secure the location. Can you arrange that?”

Dawson nodded. “I’ve already cleared a room, ma’am. Guards have been stationed to regulate traffic into and out of that section,” he said. He looked over at Miranda. “The information is highly classified. I’ll have to ask you to excuse us. Unless cleared by the director,” he motioned to Vanessa, “You aren’t cleared for the briefing.”

Miranda shrugged. “I understand,” she said. “I meant what I said to the admiral however. I _insist_ on remaining in close proximity to the … captain. One can’t be too careful these days.”

Dawson nodded, speaking not a word.

Deciding it was best to interject before things got too out of hand, Vanessa got to her feet. “Lets get started then.” Vanessa turned to Miranda. “I wouldn’t be opposed to you staying. If you have other duties—”

“I’ve wrapped them up ma’am,” Miranda said.

Hiding the smile that sought to form across her lips, Shepard nodded to Dawson. “Lead the way, lieutenant.”

Dawson nodded. “Ma’am.”

 

* * *

 

It was by divine providence that much of the N-Series protocols were preserved from the war. After spending a good amount of time getting caught up to the Alliance’s infrastructure status, Vanessa learned that many of the files on the Alliance computers weren’t backed up. The Reapers corrupted major intelligence hubs and caused many Alliance VIs to go berserk. However, some files remained untouched from the violent purge. The N-Series was one of them. There were corrupted gaps, but that’s where Vanessa’s work began.

Operation N-series operatives were direly low. Many were still ground side on human colonies for peace keeping duty. With the losses sustained, all Alliance personnel had to step up to whatever tasks was required of them. There were talks of the draft being instituted, but history proved how quickly that backfired. Putting a weapon in an untrained, jumpy civilian wasn’t going to make things better. Bigger fight force maybe, but more accidents and complications she surmised.

Playing with a holopad, Vanessa read a few more lines before placing it on the conference table. “Essentially we need to replenish the N-series back to half strength by the end of the year.” It was a very tall order - especially if they wanted quality candidates. “What’s the candidate pool so far? Of that pool, how much does said pool account for the quota?”

“653 potentials. About twenty-five percent,” he said. “That’s assuming all of them pass.”

Vanessa rose an eyebrow. “Which they won’t. Unless we sacrifice standards for numbers. Which we’re not.”

Dawson nodded. “Off the record? I wouldn’t stand for that horse shit.”

"The feeling’s mutual. What’s the main source of the candidate pool?”

“Alliance regulars.”

“Have you considered volunteers during the Reaper invasion?”

Dawson tapped his finger against the table. “That’s highly … irregular. I’m not sure how well that’d fly with the brass.”

“It’s a different time,” Vanessa said. She scoffed. “I’m not saying we don’t vet the candidates. My war was intergalactic. Surely some resistance fighters or militia stood out. Admiral Anderson’s forces were concentrated in London. He must have been in contact with branches elsewhere be it Alliance or not. I want that looked into.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Scrolling down on the holopad, Vanessa saw another topic that warranted attention. “We have a number of N2s to N5s. A few N6s as well. We should look into those N6s. See if any of them warrant N7 consideration.” Vanessa made a note on her holopad. “Also further training for lower N-operatives. Regimen modifications will be enacted to account for the Reaper war.”

“On the topic of N-Series training, another location needs to be decided on.”

“What happened to Rio?”

Dawson shrugged. “Reapers tore it up. Real bad.”

“Does it still have the same conditions pre-Reaper war?”

“In addition to some Reaper love.”

“Then I don’t see a reason to change it,” Vanessa said. “In fact, it’s perfect for Survival and Capture Training (SCT). Remember seek and destroy?”

“Shittiest game of capture the flag I’ve ever played. The spiders didn’t help. Fucking crawlies.”

“Arachnophobia?”

Dawson tilted his head back and forth. “Eight legs and more than two eyes? No thanks. We’ll keep it as is then. I’ll work with the field staff to modify the program to fit the new landscape.”

The modifications was turning an already rigorous program into something nuts. The most notable change was the difference in enemies. The Reaper themselves were towering fortresses. While the real feel of fighting the machines wouldn’t be possible, the strategies and theories gained from such a enemy could be studied and countered. Vanessa would capitalize on that.

With such thoroughness, however, the attrition rate would skyrocket. The question here was whether or not quality should precede quantity or vice versa. Current N-operatives would be insulted with lower quality. The superiors would be displeased with not meeting the quota. Vanessa couldn’t win with both crowds. She had to choose a side.

It’d start from simple tactics in the beginning. Dealing with a husk’s close quarters as well as their shield degenerating capabilities to the brute’s death charge. When technology became available, simulations would have to do. Though peace persisted, training addressing countermeasures against the other council species had to be implemented. Humanity wasn’t looking for a fight, but it had to be ready. Peace was simply convenience. War remained constant no matter the time.

“Lieutenant.”

Dawson looked up from his holopad. “Ma’am?”

“We’re done for today. If I have anything to add, I’ll pass it along,” Vanessa said. She got to her feet as did Dawson.

Dawson snapped off a salute. “Tomorrow then, ma’am?”

“Tomorrow.”

 

* * *

  

A down pour cleansed the streets of London as Vanessa laid in bed. Blessed with a seldom free day, she turned her attention to the Alliance News Network (ANN).

Even with the three plus years she’d been recovering, Earth still remained broken from the war. Her little part of London was far better off than what she saw from North America and Asia. It was the first time Vanessa had a chance to appreciate how much damage the Reapers had done. The missing list filled the bottom of the screen while whole cities transformed into ruins. New York was no more. Instead of precision striking like they had in London, the Reapers carpeted the city. There was nothing to compare the devastation to.

While Vanessa didn’t agree with it, militias under Alliance sanctions formed to restore order. The anchorwoman spoke of continuing anarchists still prowling the less controlled areas of reconstruction while the military regulars dealt with it. Some things never changed.

Hearing a knock from the door, a nurse walked in carrying a tray. He nodded to Vanessa and deployed the bedside patient table. “Lunch, captain,” he said. He looked at the TV screen. “I had family in New York.”

Abating her hunger by starting with the eggs, Vanessa chewed in silence. “Many families were lost.”

The nurse nodded. “I was part of the medical team here in London. When the Reapers landed, I thought it was over. How were we supposed to fight things like that? Admiral Anderson though. He was a real hero. Coordinating attacks. Keeping us stocked. Hard thing to do back then,” he said. “Then there was you. You left Earth while hundreds of thousands died. You came back though. With the rest off the freakin’ galaxy.”

Placing the fork down on her tray, Vanessa gave the nurse her undivided attention. There was something about him she didn’t like.

“Leaving was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.”

“Must have been nice to step away from it,” said the nurse. “Do some sightseeing while I stitch up gutted kids. The lucky ones were vaporized by those … machines!”

The door to the room opened as Singer poked his head in. His hands tensed around his rifle. His eyes moved from Vanessa to the nurse. “Ma’am?”

Vanessa put a hand up. “Never for a second did I forget about planet side. If I stayed, sure, I would’ve taken as many Reapers with me as I could,” she said. “The war needed me elsewhere. Everyone made sacrifices. You and I. The Reapers took something from us. Broke us in different ways.”

“That doesn’t bring back my daughter! My family!”

Singer stepped behind the nurse. “If you’ve finished your bitch fest, I insist you leave. The captain’s still recovering.”

“At least she’s still _alive._ ” The nurse moved away from the hospital bed. “You must think you’re some hero, Shepard. To me? You’re just some broad who had the means. Good soldiers died on Earth. _They_ were the real heroes.”

Clenching her fist, Vanessa bit down a slew of nasty retorts dancing at the tip of her tongue. Did the nurse really think she thought herself was a hero? No. She just did her job like everyone else. The major difference was the outcome. Never for a second did the valor of anyone who fought fall beneath her own accomplishments. The glory wasn’t just her own. It was every soldier from every race that deserved the glory of triumphing over the Reapers. Even though she played a large role in destroying the Reapers, she was just following orders. Just like everyone else. However others interpreted that was up to them.

Vanessa looked at the nurse square in the eyes. “Those who have never led will know not the burdens of those who lead.”

The nurse sneered. “Poetry?”

Vanessa shook her head. “Sergeant Wilhelm. Died on the Citadel ensuring we had today. I’ve had to make many decisions. Leaving people behind, running when I could’ve fought, prioritizing the mission above the lives of others. Those who died? That’s on me. War is sacrifice, and I shall never forget those who paid the ultimate price. That is how the Reapers changed me. That is my burden to live with until I die. Now, get out.”


	3. Two's a Party, A Crowd's a Crowd

Vanessa walked out from the hospital. Freedom was finally hers.

Inhaling the fresh, petroleum smelling air, a more subtle layered the unclean air. Something rotten. Vanessa had a guess to the source.

She tugged at a rather fitting orange blouse and white pants, courtesy of Miranda. Becoming too accustomed to seeing Miranda in her white and black skin suit, the thought of her wearing normal clothes didn’t quite click. It was like trying to mix water and oil. It simply didn’t happen on its own. Settling on a nearby bench, she waited for—

“Didn't I tell you to wait?” Miranda asked. Unlike Vanessa, she was in uniform. She missed the skin suit already. “Well?”

Trying to think of a good reason, Vanessa pointed at a fountain. “I was thirsty.”

Miranda rose an eyebrow and gave the look. “Really? That’s the best you could do?” she said. “Scoot,” Miranda settled next to Vanessa on the bench. “I wrapped up early, and we’re going to do something fun.”

Vanessa smirked. “You know what ‘fun’ is? Impressive.”

“I know how to have a good time,” Miranda said. She pursed her lips. “I don’t have a plan. I thought spontaneity would be best. There’s not too much going on nightlife wise. Was never a fan. There is a—”

“Have you ever seen Big Ben?”

Miranda scoffed. “Who hasn’t seen Big Ben?”

Vanessa shrugged. “I haven’t. Maybe we can start there … what?”

The expression was a new one. Miranda stared, a mix of amusement and disbelief on her face. For all the time she’d spent with ex-Cerberus Aphrodite reincarnate, Shepard never remembered Miranda ever being caught off guard. The mask of stoic professionalism was so absolute. It wouldn’t surprise her if she was the only one to see Miranda’s vulnerable side.

“I’m always for BB, but it’s in the quarantined area.”

“There’s a quarantine?”

Miranda nodded. “The Reapers developed some sort of toxin. It saturated the immediate area surrounding Big Ben. High mortality rate before we found out about it. Unfortunately...” About to say more, Miranda looked over Vanessa’s shoulders. The frown was unmistakable. “Shit.”

Vanessa suddenly heard her name. A crowd of reporters stampeded in her direction. The constant clicking — she hated those floating cameras — punctuated the reporters’ presence.

The press and her didn’t exactly click. A notable example was Al-Jalani. Every news network showed her punching the reporter in the face. Put her in a combat situation, Vanessa could perform and keep her calm. In a non-combat situation, however, it depended on the circumstance. It wasn’t Vanessa’s proudest moments. At least the woman did her part in the war. Propaganda was a powerful tool, and Al-Jalani did admirably. She made a mental note to check up on the woman. Even if she hated the media, she could respect a citizen fighting against the genocidal machine race. 

Miranda cleared her throat. She looked at the two privates standing a respectable distance away. They both nodded at her. “Let’s go. Trust me. You don’t want to deal with,” Miranda pointed at the incoming mob, “that. A dose of singularity might do them some good.”

Shaking her head, Vanessa got to her feet. “The media’s like a bad rash. Either you treat the infection or it becomes your annoying worst friend.” Vanessa gestured for Stinger and LeStrange to stand down. She waited with her hands clasped behind her back. She promised herself to not punch a reporter this time around. At least, she’d try her damnedest.

She inhaled slowly, steeling herself for the cretins.

“Commander Shepard!”

“Commander!”

She grimaced as her hearing cringed from all the shouting. Why did they have to be so loud? Flashes from the flying camera bots snapped pictures while her personal space was violated. What she wouldn’t give to nova this crowd. Countless brave souls perished in the war against the Reapers. Why couldn’t they have been spared instead of these ingrates? Her nerves were on the frits as she constantly told herself the flashes weren’t muzzle flashes.

Scrutinizing each reporter, Vanessa mustered the strength needed to find her military voice. She never coddled a reporter, and she certainly wasn’t about to start. “One at a time!” she shouted. Miranda and the two privates shifted closer to her. The reporters backed up as her restrained wrath fell upon them. “Now, your questions.”

The reporters, though unsettled, started to speak all at once again. They were gracious enough not to shout. Vanessa pointed to someone. His credentials was that of the Alliance News Network. “Commander—“

Miranda cleared her throat. “Captain Shepard.”

The reporter nodded before turning back to Vanessa. “Captain. Erwin Thomas from ANN. How does it feel to be the hero of the century?”

She rose an eyebrow. “I’m no hero. Just a soldier,” she said. “I did my duty.”

“As simple as that?”

Vanessa nodded.

“Captain! Holly Glasgowitz from the Introspector,” said a brunette. “No one can dispute what you’ve done for humanity. For the whole bloody galaxy. Do you plan to retire or stay on with the Alliance?”

“Everyone fights. No one quits,” Vanessa said. “Our fight — humanity’s fight — is never over. Especially now. From what I hear, the galaxy’s rebuilding. I’ll keep doing my part until I can’t.”

A flurry of questions came. An equal amount of answers went. Vanessa had given enough of her time; her patience was nearing its end. She gestured to another reporter. “Last question.”

“Captain. Jordan Lam from Asia ANN. What would you say to those still outside the blue zones?”

Vanessa blinked. What the hell was a blue zone?

Miranda had just informed her about the quarantines due to a Reaper biological agent. But blue zones? How many more were there? From the briefings, some areas of the world were devastated more so than others. Anarchy was present, but that didn’t surprise her. Anarchy was a perpetual thing. Even in things as small as disillusioned fools protesting Alliance policy. But no one told her anything about zones. Were things that bad?

She looked to Miranda who returned her gaze. An understanding passed between them.

Miranda took a step forward. She looked only at Lam. “The captain is still being appraised of global events,” she said. “Other obligations require the captain elsewhere. Thank you for your time.”

Vanessa already started walking back towards the hospital as Singer and LeStrange remained behind to block the reporters from following. More Alliance personnel emerged from the hospital as they made a barricade between the captain and her pursuers. They were well armed.

“Thanks,” Vanessa whispered as they entered the hospital.

“Just doing my part,” Miranda replied playfully. “I’ll arrange for a pick up. I have a place nearby. Secluded. Do you—“

“Captain? Commander.” A lieutenant made her way towards them. She saluted and stood at attention. “Lieutenant Jakobs. Fleet Admiral Hackett has requested your presence at Alliance headquarters. Immediately, ma’am.”

Aware she was dressed in civilian clothing, she pursed her lips. Maybe Miranda’s words of other obligations wasn’t such a lie after all. “Understood. Can you arrange transportation?”

“Already done, ma’am. Transports waiting up front,” Jakobs said with a hint of pride. “Saw the reporters. We’ll keep them at bay.”

Vanessa nodded. “I’ll need to get my uniform.”

“Waiting for you at HQ, ma’am. Everything’s been fitted.”

She rose an eyebrow, amused. “Let’s not keep the admiral waiting.”

Miranda nodded. “Right behind you.”

* * *

  

Vanessa sighed. From one uncomfortable situation straight to another. “I’m not a politician, sir.”

“A sentiment I share,” Hackett said. “However, the defense committee and other Alliance heavy weights want a meeting. I tried getting you off the hook, but I have orders as well.”

Vanessa closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Fitted snuggly in her new Alliance dress uniform, she wanted nothing more than to find a bunk and drop like a rock. Maybe begin her work on the N-Series program. Instead, orders had her entertaining Alliance brass for the evening. She didn’t want to do it, but it was a chance of winning over some influence.

The bastard Udina was rubbing off on her. May that traitor rot with the rest of Cerberus.

“Understood, admiral,” she said.

Hackett sighed in relief. Walking behind his desk, he gestured at a pair of glasses. “Drink?”

Vanessa nodded. She took a filled glass and took a sip. Sweet, buttery smooth bourbon. “Smooth as sin.”

“Couldn’t believe my eyes when I found a bottle.” Hackett took a drink before swirling the contents in the short glass. “Any progress on the N-Series?”

Finishing her glass, Vanessa placed it on the table. “I’ve tried to accommodate what the defense committee wants. It’s a give and take. Quality instead of quantity. Quantity instead of quality. Can’t have both.” It wasn’t the news she wanted to report, but she prized giving no bullshit assessments. It was why military leaders respected her while politicians were wary. “I’ve decided on a number of candidates. Many of them veterans from the Reaper war. Some are non-Alliance.”

The career soldier rose an eyebrow. “Define non-Alliance.”

“Fighters that comprised the resistance groups during the war. It’s unorthodox, but it’s the only way we can get the numbers. Quality too albeit probably not as high,” she said. “Standards are much more difficult since I’ve assumed control. I expect similar or higher attrition rates to be in the N-Series. N7 is a different beast. I expect only a handful within that group.”

Hackett nodded. “Defense committee won’t like it, but not all of them are soldiers. Do what you need to replenish our forces, captain. I’ll keep the vultures away.”

“Thank you, sir. If that’s all, I need to prep for tonight.” Vanessa saluted her superior and waited for him to dismiss her before heading for the door. A room full of people that used words instead of rifles. Vanessa closed her eyes and sighed. She needed another drink. 


End file.
